


Fearful Thoughts

by Lindira



Series: Ma'nehn & Amatus [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5959422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindira/pseuds/Lindira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the Exalted Council, Dorian struggles with the fears that come from loving Lavellan and wanting to keep him safe. - A Trespasser fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fearful Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> A self-indulgent angst piece that ran away with me, written to continue dealing with my conflicting feelings about Trespasser. Since this is a Trespasser fic, please be aware there are lots of major spoilers ahead for the DLC.
> 
> This story is a companion to "Sense Things" and happens concurrently. This is also a continuation of "The Lift Away", adapted for the events of Trespasser, and will therefore reference many of the events in that fic. Please also note the changes to my personal canon, due to Trespasser, that are reflected in this fic (spoilers for "The Lift Away"):  
> 1) Aeric's right wrist healed completely and no longer bothers him.  
> 2) Dorian returned to Tevinter alone after meeting up with him at the end of "The Lift Away", because Aeric expected to attend the Exalted Council later that year.  
> 3) Aeric never handed over the Inquisition to Cassandra.  
> 4) The Exalted Council takes place approx. 7 months after "The Lift Away".

Dorian received the letter with his breakfast, his mind still bleary from lack of proper sleep. He wanted to blame the tea - a poor substitute for the Rivaini coffee he so enjoyed in Tevinter, at least in terms of keeping a man feeling like himself in the mornings. Yet the reality was that he had barely slept, the knowledge that he would be seeing Aeric again at long last keeping him awake and nearly giddy with anticipation.

As he sipped his tea, Dorian picked up a letter that his steward Relyne had delivered with his meal. He frowned at the seal. The sigil was a lamb, such a timid animal for a formidable house like Lanatae. From Magister Lanatae, then? The two of them were hardly on friendly terms. He broke the seal and began to read.

_Lord Pavus,_

_It is with regret that I inform you of the passing of your father, Magister Halward Pavus. Though investigations are ongoing, wounds make it clear that he was killed. I have informed your mother personally of his death as well._

_However, congratulations are in order! As per the Rites of Succession, the Magisterial seat of House Pavus is now yours. As soon as your duties have completed in the South as ambassador for mighty Tevinter, you should report to the Hall of the Magisterium for official transference of lands and titles. The statutes of limitations on the succession rites end within a few weeks, so do hurry back to Minrathous so you can gain a proper hold on your inheritance._

_Once again, condolences and congratulations to you, Magister Pavus._

_Signed,_

_Magister Adrienne of House Lanatae_

Dorian stared down at the page, rereading the words for several minutes. What he felt in that moment was difficult to describe. He felt nothing, but at the same time, there was the pain of losing someone he had so loved. He felt relief as well as guilt, and then came all the hurt of losing what might have been. There hadn't been a full reconciliation between them; Dorian hadn't been certain that that was something he even wanted. But now he wished that they had patched things up, if only so he didn't have to wonder if such a thing were possible.

"Bad news, Monsieur?"

Dorian looked up from the letter to see Relyne pouring him more tea and frowning down at him. With a nod, he answered, "Yes, unfortunately. It would seem my father is dead. Assassinated, most likely."

Relyne put down the teapot. "Are you all right?" she asked gently.

"I don't know, to be honest." Dorian sighed and put the letter down on the table. "The very idea is surreal. Magister Lanatae may hate me, but she isn't prone to lying when it doesn't directly benefit her." He shook his head. "I believe it's true, but it's… difficult to wrap my mind around the idea."

"That is a common enough reaction, I think," Relyne said, squeezing his shoulder before gathering his empty plates. "Though people do not talk of it much. One must be sad to hear of a family member's passing, yes? But it is not always so. There is anger and shame and guilt and remorse. Happiness even. These things are not wrong to feel, necessarily."

Dorian nodded, but didn't reply. Something had been bothering him about his father's murder, something aside from his own feelings on the matter. He had just now put his finger on it. "Why now, though?"

"Hm?"

"Well, my father is… was a powerful man," Dorian said, steepling his fingers in front of his lips as he lost himself in thought. The past tense hurt more than he expected. "Powerful people always have enemies. But he's always managed to avoid getting himself killed before."

Relyne balanced the plates on her hands and began to step away. "Perhaps he became careless."

His father was never careless, Dorian knew. Just as he also knew what was different now. Though he had always spoken of reform before, Dorian was beginning to be heard. People were taking him seriously.

His father's killers had been trying to get to Dorian.

How convenient it had been, gaining the ambassadorship that would take Dorian south and out of immediate danger. Even before he left, he suspected his father had had a part in arranging the appointment for him. "Damned fool," Dorian muttered to himself under his breath, taking a long sip of his tea. A lump had formed in his throat, making his voice hoarse and cracked. "So preoccupied with keeping me out of harm's way. Couldn't even protect himself."

Despite the pain his father had caused him, despite the fact that he had no idea how to process his father's death, Dorian couldn't help but feel a pang of heartache. And perhaps pride? It didn't make up for what the old man had tried to do years ago, but Dorian was glad his father's last act was finally something done right.

"Whoever's done this, they have another thing coming if they think I'll let them get away with it," Dorian told Relyne when she came back again, sitting beside him at the table and pouring herself some tea. His voice rumbled with a hint of anger, outrage building at the thought of someone targeting his family. "The utter gall," he spat, all but slamming his teacup onto the table. "They must be getting bold, if they'd attack such a prominent figure as my father. Never before had I thought it a _good_ thing that I have so few I consider family. There's just my mother, really, and…" Dorian trailed off, his heart wrenching as he realized.

Relyne frowned, dropping two lumps of sugar into her tea. "Inquisitor Lavellan," she finished for him.

The heartache only worsened, hearing Aeric's name. "Quite," Dorian murmured.

Silence fell upon them, a tight nausea coiling deep in Dorian's belly. He pushed away his plate, his appetite gone.

"The Inquisitor can take care of himself," Relyne spoke up. Dorian could feel her serious gaze upon him, even though he could not bring himself to meet her eyes. "He defended himself well against the attempt on his life last year. He will be careful."

"Careful?" Dorian scoffed. "That elf so much as looks sideways at anything, and it tries to kill him! The lack of regard for his own safety is positively epic in scale, Relyne!" He shook his head, finally raising his eyes to meet hers. "Now, my father? He was _obsessive_ in protecting himself. 'Careful' wasn't even the half of it. The man was nearly paranoid. If they could get to him, even after all his precautions…"

Relyne reached out and squeezed his shoulder, trying to reassure him. "Your paramour will be fine, Monsieur. I am certain of it. He has saved the world, has he not? He has survived much."

"All it takes is once," Dorian intoned, his stomach tightening further. "One slip. My father is proof of that."

"I tell you, he can take care of himself." Relyne scowled as she sat back in her chair, her black curls bouncing. "Try not to worry."

Yet a dark fear had taken root in Dorian's heart. He could feel it lodged there, whispering doubts into his head. He was a magister now, but if he used that power to make the changes he had been fighting for, if he truly fought for a reformed Tevinter, he knew the vipers in the Magisterium would stop at nothing to bring him down. They would keep coming, and coming. Dorian had to be willing to risk everything. Everyone.

But this was Aeric. And Dorian couldn't risk him. Never him.

***

Dorian paced the upper levels of the courtyard, occasionally making small talk with various Orlesian and Fereldan dignitaries. But his heart and mind were elsewhere, his hand fumbling in his pocket at the two identical lockets held within. He remembered spotting them on an Inquisition manifest and writing a letter to Josephine to acquire them. Back then, he thought them to be useful trinkets and nothing more, something to make trips away from Aeric easier. Back when they both thought Aeric could come live with him in Tevinter.

What a fool he had been. Tevinter had never been safe for elves. Least of all for the Herald of Andraste, Leader of the Inquisition, and - most damning of all - Beloved of Tevinter Pariah Dorian Pavus.

Dorian would have to leave soon. He had originally planned to stay in the South for a few weeks after the Council to spend time with Aeric and help him pack for Tevinter. Now, if Dorian wanted to get to Minrathous in a timely fashion to complete all the succession rites, he would have to leave within a few days. Aeric would be crushed. How would Dorian tell him? Aeric had waited so long for him… How could Dorian tell him that they couldn't be together, not while the Magisterium loomed over them, ready to murder one or both of them at the nearest opportunity?

Before the letter that morning, Dorian had imagined exactly what he would say to Aeric upon seeing him again. As loathe as he was to admit it, Dorian had given great and detailed thought to how he would kiss him (passionately, tugging his hair just so), and for how long (forever, preferably, but a few minutes would do). Yet when the moment came, and Dorian caught sight of Aeric coming up the stairs behind the Orlesian ambassador, the terror of losing him was back again, pulling down all rational thought around his ears.

Dorian panicked.

Words spewed from his mouth that he didn't mean; everything he had pictured himself saying had now flown out the proverbial window. He pulled on the old, familiar mask of a smile to hide every shred of fear within him. Dorian barely even registered what he said to Aeric. All he could think was that the connection between them was dangerous. If anyone saw how much Dorian cared, surely the assassins would come and kill Aeric on the spot. It was irrational and idiotic, Dorian knew, but it did not stop him from treating Aeric like a stranger.

_What are you doing, you blithering moron?_ Dorian asked himself. _It's plain to see you're hurting him._

The answer came almost at once. _So long as he's safe from me._

***

Dorian found himself wandering the courtyard for a long time afterwards. He wasn't avoiding Aeric. Not precisely. Yet the impending conversation Dorian would need to have with him filled him with dread. Try as he might, Dorian could not figure out how to make things up to Aeric, how to tell him that he would be leaving again within days, all while protecting him from another attempt on his life. Though Dorian told himself again and again that he was being an idiot, and his enemies within the Magisterium would hardly strike so soon after murdering his father, it did nothing to quell the sickness within him that ate at his thoughts.

"Hey! Sparkler!"

As expected, when Dorian looked up, his eyes met Varric's, who sauntered over to him with a broad grin. "Good to see you! Not a bad party, huh? Aside from, you know, the fact that the Fereldans and the Orlesians want to lecture us on how to save the world all proper-like. Good wine, at least."

"Strangely, I haven't had the opportunity to partake of any yet," Dorian replied, hiding his irritability behind an airy wave of his hand.

"All the Tevinter ambassador shit, I take it?" Varric asked sympathetically. He gave a rueful shake of his head. "Seems we've all come up in the world. Did you hear I'm a viscount now?"

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "You? Whoever in their right mind would want _you_ in charge? Kirkwall must be in worse shape than I thought."

Varric barked a laugh. "My words exactly." The dwarf paused and gave Dorian a crooked look. "But what's this I hear about you leaving soon? I ran into Relyne, and she said the two of you probably aren't sticking around after the Council."

With a sigh, Dorian nodded. "I've been made a magister. With my homeland's strict succession laws, if I take too long to claim my seat, it will likely land with some distant cousin who's more Nevarran than Tevinter. Unthinkable, really."

As soon as Varric's grin widened, Dorian realized his mistake.

"A real magister!" Varric exclaimed, clapping the mage on the back. "Maker's balls, good to know there's another decent one of you in the Magisterium. Maybe you and Mae can actually turn some shit around."

"That's the idea," Dorian said absently. He glanced around, doing a brief search for brown hair and green _vallaslin_. "Listen, Varric, my becoming a magister… it's not exactly public knowledge. Let's not spread the news around just yet, hm?"

Varric laughed again. "Who would I tell? But we should celebrate, get some of that wine I mentioned! I was about to meet up with Tiny and Buttercup - and the kid, I think, but it's hard to tell with him sometimes. You should join us! We'll have a toast to your promotion, or whatever you wanna call it."

Dorian scowled. "Do you listen to yourself? How is that not telling people?"

But Varric didn't hear him, having spotted Iron Bull, Sera, and Cole heading their way. "It's fine, Sparkler. It'll stay between friends."

Dorian's protests were lost in the sea of enthusiastic greetings.

***

Every expression on Aeric's face was like shards of glass lodged deep within Dorian. Constantly cutting, wounds he could feel but not see. The heavy stone of dread Dorian had been carrying with him all morning finally dropped, leaving him breathless. Aeric shouldn't have found out this way. Not with a party, a celebration he hadn't been in on. Aeric hated feeling excluded, Dorian knew.

_You're hurting him._

As Varric's party dissipated, Aeric approached Dorian from behind. He could feel Aeric's deepened scowl on his back and sighed as he confessed. "When the Exalted Council has ended, I'm going back to Tevinter… for good, this time."

Aeric was angry. He had a right to be. As the elf stared him down, Dorian told him about everything - about the letter, about his father's death, about being made a magister. Aeric's face softened at once. Could he see the tumult of emotions Dorian felt in that moment? Good memories of Father mixed with the bad ones, flashing in amongst the vivid imaginings of how he might have died. Had Father been stabbed? Poisoned? Was it blood magic? A lump formed in Dorian's throat that he had to clear away before speaking again.

"You'll need help," Aeric offered, not for the first time. "I could go with you." The hope on his face was as painful as his anger only moments ago.

_No, he can't!_ "Not this time, _amatus_ ," Dorian told him, surprising himself with the steadiness of his voice. Too steady, perhaps. His words sounded flippant and careless. He tried to reassure Aeric that he would be all right, that he had help where it counted. But that wasn't what Aeric needed to be assured, was it? Of course not.

"What of us?" There was a hitch in Aeric's voice as he spoke. "This is it, then?"

Dorian could feel his face contort for just a moment as his heart sank like a stone within him. _Please, don't look at me like that…_ "Nonsense," he rushed to tell Aeric _. Please don't be so sad… I can't do this otherwise…_ "There will always be an 'us'. We'll just be… farther apart, for a time."

And there was the look upon Aeric's face that Dorian had so dreaded. A moment of heartbreak so palpable, Dorian could feel it too.

What could he do? What could he say? Dorian floundered, the stifled upbringing of a Tevinter noble leaving him ill-equipped for emotions this complicated. "Now, now, don't pout," he said, unable to think of anything to do but make a joke. "They'll put that expression on a statue, and then you'll be sorry." _Please smile. Something. Anything but this._ But of course Aeric wouldn't smile. How could he?

Aeric looked up at him with those damned mournful eyes of his. "You think this is funny?"

All Aeric had ever wanted was for them to be together. Dorian knew this. He knew that the promise of a happy but difficult life together was Aeric's light at the end of the Inquisition's very long tunnel. "Nothing about this is funny," Dorian said apologetically. _I just don't know what else to do…_

Dorian gave him the sending crystal then, a small and piddling consolation prize compared to having each other nearby every night. Compared to shared meals and a shared bed. A shared life. _We can still have that_ , Dorian told himself fiercely. _Somehow. I will make Tevinter safe for him, someday._ "You are the man I love, _amatus_." The words were an oath, a promise for that 'someday'. "Nothing will ever truly keep us apart."

Tentatively, Dorian stepped forward, closing the space between them, needing the reassurance himself that this separation did not mean the end. The fear had not left him, his lips nearly trembling upon Aeric's. With hands holding tight to Dorian's arms, Aeric kissed him back fiercely, an outpouring of love and longing that almost made Dorian buckle. He wanted so much for Aeric to come with him, for both of them to risk everything in defiance of all reason. But he wanted Aeric to stay alive most of all.

"Now let's finish the good wine before the others get back," Dorian suggested hopefully. He wanted to be done with the tension between them. Over a year and a half apart, with just a short visit in the middle to sustain them. The separation was too long - about to get longer - and Dorian ached for the chance to reacquaint himself with Aeric at length. There was too little time now to waste by lamenting what could not be.

But Aeric was looking away, biting his lip as he stared off into the courtyard. His eyes were pinched, brow furrowed. "You go ahead." Aeric's voice was low and rumbling. Dorian's heart broke to hear the bitterness in it. "But I can't merely pretend that I'm all right with this. I just…" Aeric swallowed visibly. He started again.

"I don't understand why I can't go with you this time. You didn't want me to go before, but I had obligations to fulfill here. I understood." Aeric finally raised his eyes to meet Dorian's. "But the Inquisition is likely to be disbanded after the Council. I'll have nothing to keep me here. Why couldn't I accompany you? Isn't that what we agreed upon?"

" _Amatus_ …" Dorian said softly _. I can't let you end up like my father._ "I said I was sorry. I don't know what more you want from me." He reached out a hand towards Aeric.

"What I have always wanted," Aeric said, taking his hand away before Dorian could touch it. "To join you in Tevinter, so we can finally be together." Scowling, Aeric shook his head and started to walk past Dorian towards the main courtyard. "Never mind. I… I have to prepare for the Exalted Council. I'll see you in there, _Ambassador_."

Without another word, Aeric stalked across the courtyard towards the palace, nobles parting to get out of his way. Dorian stood beside the fountain, feeling stunned and alone. This wouldn't be the end for them. Not yet, at least. For now, Aeric only needed some time away from the argument, Dorian knew. Yet still he worried that this might be the beginning of something. And if this was the beginning of the end for them as Dorian feared, at least Aeric would be safe. Dorian intended on breaking down Tevinter and rebuilding it from the ground up. Maker willing, Aeric would not be caught in his wake.

The thought was not a comfort, however, not while he sat on the couch and sipped wine alone. How strange that this was everything he wanted and, at the same time, not at all.

***

Their investigation into the dead qunari was a fine distraction for a time. If Dorian had been in a better mood, he might have laughed at the state their lives were in, where the threat of a qunari invasion was considered a mere distraction. He and Aeric reconciled briefly in front of the eluvian, a kiss and an embrace sweeter than any he'd had since arriving in the South. Still, Dorian worried that he had damaged things with Aeric irreparably.

When they returned through the eluvian that evening, Dorian felt a hand slip into his as they walked out onto the palace courtyard. Aeric smiled at him, the little curl of his lips marred only by the sad pinch at his eyes. "Spend the night with me?" Aeric asked, low enough that no one nearby would hear. "I've missed you."

Dorian returned the smile, though he could feel the sadness in his as well. "Of course."

They walked through the various halls of the palace towards Aeric's room, their hands remaining tightly clasped. Normally, Dorian wouldn't have minded the silence between them. But with their fight earlier, and all the myriad emotions throughout the day, Dorian felt a thread of tension between them that he didn't like at all. Things had almost always been easy and comfortable with Aeric. Dorian didn't know what to do with complications.

As they entered Aeric's room, Dorian paused at the door as he closed it behind him. He looked over at Aeric, who sat on the bed and beckoned for Dorian to sit beside him.

Dorian smirked, crossing the room. "I was rather hoping we would be skipping to the part where we're tearing each other's clothes off." He sat down next to Aeric, angling himself to face him.

The elf responded with another little smile. "I thought we should clear the air first." He paused, taking Dorian's hands once more and searching his face. "You never did tell me why you don't want me to come with you to Tevinter."

"Aeric…" Dorian sighed.

"I thought that was the plan," Aeric pressed on. "When you came to visit last year, we agreed I would join you once I was done with the Inquisition. That time might be now, Dorian."

"I know."

The expression on Aeric's face was puzzled, almost hurt. "Then why? What's changed?"

Dorian frowned down at their linked hands. For a moment, he said nothing, not knowing where to begin, but Aeric waited for him patiently. "Those bastards killed my father," Dorian replied at last in a low growl. Saying it out loud again made it feel more real, memories flashing, fueling an outrage that seemed to blossom fully formed in an instant.

"I know," Aeric murmured softly, his hands tightening on Dorian's. "I'm so sorry. We'll find them."

"You don't understand," Dorian said, shaking his head. "That's what's changed, _amatus_." He raised his eyes to find Aeric's still full of puzzlement. "A magister doesn't get to be my father's age without being masterful in outthinking his opponents, from all angles. If there was anyone in the Magisterium I thought for certain would be one of the rare few to die of old age rather than murder, it was my father." He paused, swallowing. "And now he is dead."

Aeric's brow furrowed. "And you're worried the same will happen to me?"

Dorian gave a bitter laugh. "If only 'worried' were the half of it." He sighed again. "Frankly, I'm terrified. They've already come after you once. They nearly succeeded."

"'Nearly' being the operative word."

"Never again," Dorian insisted. "It's more than I'm willing to risk." Even sitting there with Aeric before him at last, it was hard to think of little else but the possibility of his assassination. "I have real power now, as a magister. With that power comes real enemies. And after last year's display? They know for certain what you mean to me. Any action I take to further reform in Tevinter will make you a target."

"I'm used to people trying to kill me, _ma'nehn_ ," Aeric said, a touch of irony in his voice. "I know how to defend myself."

"I know you do." Letting go of Aeric's left hand, Dorian cupped the elf's face, stroking the lines of tattoo with his thumb. "However, I can rationalize it all I like. I can think, logically, that you are capable of fighting off whatever dangers you might face. But the idea of you coming to Tevinter, within easy reach of those who would want to harm you…" He gave an involuntary shiver, and the words that followed came out in a near-whisper. "I would be virtually frozen, Aeric. I wouldn't be able to do the work that I must, knowing it would make them want to come after you. Because as careful as you might be, even one mistake and you would be killed." Dorian shook his head. "I could not live with that. You mean too much to me."

Aeric cast his eyes away, seeming to fixate on the embroidery of the bedspread. "I understand, Dorian. I do."

"And yet?" Dorian prompted, sensing his lover's hesitation.

"And yet I don't see where that leaves us any opportunity to be together," the elf said in a quiet voice. "Even if you kill the people who killed your father, you said so yourself. Your power will make you enemies."

Dorian's chest felt tight, as if an iron band were squeezing around him. "I can visit," he offered, but the words sounded hollow in his mouth. "And Tevinter won't always be this way. Not if I can help it."

Aeric looked up at last. "I know. You're going to do incredible things, _ma'nehn_. It's just… lasting changes take time. A lot of time." He shrugged, swallowing hard. "And I'm not certain I can do this for much longer. Being apart from you… seeing you only once a year…" With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair. "This is the hardest thing I've ever done."

"Come now," Dorian scoffed, though his heart wasn't in it. "You've battled darkspawn magisters and high dragons. You are currently in the midst of preventing a qunari invasion. It's not even the hardest thing you've done today."

Aeric shook his head. "I mean it."

Even if Aeric hadn't replied, Dorian knew it to be true. He had felt it every day since leaving Skyhold a year and a half ago. There had been an ache within him that had not gone away since. It was painful, almost physical in how deeply it weighed upon him. Even when they were together, it was there with the knowledge that their reunion was only temporary. "So what do you want to do?" Dorian asked finally, a spike of fear cutting through him in anticipation of Aeric's answer.

The pause that followed seemed excruciatingly long, but when it ended, it was with a small smile from Aeric. "For now, show me how this works." His hand went up to the amulet hanging around his neck from a gold chain.

Dorian's heart warmed, his nerves calming somewhat. "There's a clasp on the side just here," he said, taking his own amulet in hand to demonstrate. "Open the locket to reveal the crystal. Touch the crystal once and say ' _vox_ ' to open the channel between the two crystals." As Dorian touched the crystal and said the word, his crystal lit up with a pale blue glow. "The blue means that the other amulet isn't open. You can still speak into it, and my crystal will hold your message for me until I open the amulet. Rather like passing along a note. Say ' _sonus_ ' to listen to the message. And, finally, if the other amulet is open and the crystal activated…" Dorian gestured for Aeric to open his. When Aeric said the word " _vox_ ", the dim light from the crystals turned white. "That means we may speak freely, as if we are in the same room."

Aeric stared at the amulet, his smile widening. "That's remarkable," he said in an awed voice, turning the amulet over in his hands.

"I did think it was rather clever." Dorian gave a little smile as well as he watched Aeric study the crystal. "Perhaps it will make things easier."

"Perhaps," Aeric agreed. He closed the amulet with a snap. "But it's a poor substitute for your arms around me. Which I'm still waiting on."

Dorian smirked, as he pulled Aeric closer. "Might I remind you that you were the one who wanted to talk first?"

"Don't know what I was thinking," Aeric whispered before kissing him.

As their lips met, it was clear their hearts were heavy, the passion they might have had giving way to desperation, a need to cling to one another as tightly as they could. Though they were tired from the afternoon full of fighting, Dorian and Aeric undressed eagerly. The feel of each other's skin, the simple pleasure of being together, of breathing the same air… all were a comfort against the threat of an uncertain future.

***

A servant knocked at the door early the next morning, calling for them to join Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana - Divine Victoria, Dorian supposed - for a briefing. As he and Aeric got ready, Dorian eyed the long bandage snaking from his lover's palm up to his elbow. Aeric's hand had been gloved for the most part the day before, and mild injuries weren't uncommon when fighting demons and various bandits. Still, that Aeric hadn't mentioned it bothered him.

"You might have said something if you had a sprain," Dorian said airily, pointing at the bound wrist. "If we'd been more vigorous last night, you could have hurt yourself further."

Aeric shook his head, staring down at the bandage. "Not a sprain," he said after a moment. "The Anchor has merely been… more active lately. It's distracting."

Dorian pulled on his trousers and started on the straps of his armor. "It _was_ doing a few new tricks yesterday after you touched that artifact. Everything all right?" He reached for Aeric's hand to take a closer look, but the elf moved before he got the chance, slipping into a light gambeson to wear under his leather armor.

"It's fine, Dorian," Aeric replied. "Please don't worry about it."

Aeric's voice was so calm and sure that Dorian nodded and pushed it out of his mind. Together, they hurried through the last of their preparations and left to deal with this newest crisis.

***

Dorian should have known something was wrong. He should have known. It was dusk the following day, and Leliana was telling him and the others, in no uncertain terms, that the Anchor was killing Aeric. Dorian felt as if he were drowning, his chest constricting. It was difficult to breathe. He had been there, every time Aeric's Mark burst with energy. Its magic protected them and burned through their enemies, yet Aeric gritted his teeth every time it happened. It hurt him, but he kept saying he was fine. Dorian believed him.

He shouldn't have.

"Let me see it," Dorian said to Aeric in a low voice as they stood waiting for the others in front of the eluvian.

Aeric cradled his arm to his chest protectively. "Dorian…"

Dorian shook his head. "Leliana told us about your little pyrotechnic display during your last chat," he grunted bruquely. It was difficult to keep himself in check, waves of panic threatening to devour him whole. "Let me see."

Swallowing, Aeric nodded and removed his glove. Even through the bandage, Dorian could see that the Anchor was growing ever more unstable, a dull pulsing light seeping through the thin cloth. Slowly, Aeric removed the bandage.

Dorian gasped.

Aeric's arm was almost unrecognizable, his once smooth skin now crumpled like paper. Green energy flowed up his veins from his palm throughout his wrist and forearm, like vines made of magic. Horrified though he was, Dorian still could not quell his curiosity. With a gentle hand, he touched the arm, and Aeric did not pull away. It looked as if the flesh was burnt - was still burning - though it was cool to the touch. The green light pulsed again, and Aeric's eye pinched at the ends. Even now, he was keeping himself from wincing.

Damned idiot.

"Why didn't you say something?" Dorian asked, his voice breaking. His eyes felt hot, tears building despite his best efforts to keep them at bay. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, to lose Aeric now after everything. "I could've… I don't know. Something."

The changes in Aeric's face, as always, were subtle. Yet even if no one else could see how frightened Aeric was, Dorian could. In the tightness of his eyes, in the downturn of his brow. "Whatever happens, I wouldn't trade the years we've shared for anything." Afraid though Aeric was, the look he directed at Dorian held all the determination the Leader of the Inquisition commanded. "I love you."

_The years we've shared… I've been gone for half of it…_ Dorian realized _. Fasta vass, I'm not ready for this…_ "I knew you would break my heart, you bloody bastard," he accused. It was only his intense pride and the sound of their companions approaching that kept his tears from falling. Cassandra and Sera entered the small room, faces taut with concern.

Sadness and fear were etched into Aeric's countenance, as much as the tattooed vines. Even still, he squeezed Dorian's hand and turned with shoulders squared. And as Aeric ran ahead of them, pressing onward into what seemed surely to be his death, Dorian found his heart aching, for he had never felt so desperately proud and in love as he did in that moment.

Dorian let himself get lost in the battles, pushing down every emotion against the looming threat of Aeric's Mark. The flow of magic sang to Dorian, soothing him in its familiar way, fire and lightning pouring from his staff. They chased the qunari through the fortress they called the Darvaarad, through _gaatlok_ factories and barracks. Dorian was even grateful for the dragon they found; freeing it was yet another moments at a time, he could almost forget. Almost. But then the Mark would come alive with emerald flames, Aeric pushing out a burst of erratic magic that burned through their enemies. The terror returned each time, and it took all of Dorian's energy just to keep fighting.

Aeric staggered to his knees before the Viddasala, clutching his arm as it flickered once more. _I'm going to lose him…_ Dorian was sure of it. _Any moment now…_

" _Panahedan_ , Inquisitor," the Viddasala was saying as she stepped towards the mirror. "If it is any consolation, Solas will not outlive you." She stepped through the glass, the _saarebas_ \- giant even by qunari standards - following close behind.

Gritting his teeth, Aeric got to his feet and turned to Dorian and the others. "Whatever else, Solas was one of us. I won't leave him for Viddasala."

Solas! He had helped Aeric before, had kept the magic of the Anchor from consuming him years ago. It was the barest glimmer of hope, but Dorian clung to it. It was a possibility, slim though it was, that all that Dorian loved in the world would not be lost. He followed Aeric through the eluvian, scared to hope. Scared not to.

Morning came all at once. It was too soon; the eluvians must have been taking them eastward. The sudden change from night was jarring, as if time was speeding up, stealing away what precious few moments Aeric had left. Dorian nearly didn't notice the fresh greenery claiming the ancient elven architecture around them, his normally insatiable curiosity only just scratching the surface of his consciousness. Questions intermingled with the frantic pleas in his mind. What was this place? How much of it was ruined by his ancestors? Or did the elves do this to themselves? And beneath it all… _I can't lose him and my father in the same week. I can't._

They were wading through knee-deep waters when the Mark flared. "Everyone back!" Aeric screamed just as magic exploded around him in a tangled dome, shockwaves radiating out towards them. The energy seared Dorian's skin. If they had been any closer to Aeric, they surely would have been burned.

Even still, Dorian took a step closer to Aeric, wanting to run to his side. Though doubled over in pain, Aeric looked up at him, his eyes wide with panic. The elf's expression bade Dorian to stay back better than words. Instead, Dorian helplessly watched the man he loved stagger onward through what had to be tortuous pain. "That can't be healthy," Dorian quipped in a voice that was entirely too dry. "Perhaps Solas can help."

"Perhaps," Aeric replied quietly. But his weary tone made the fear spike in Dorian's spine again.

" _Amatus_." Dorian edged forward, as close as he dared. "You can't give up. _Kaffas_ , I'll kill you if you do."

Aeric relaxed a little and looked at Dorian with such fondness. It made his worry hurt more. "Wouldn't want that."

As they climbed the steps just ahead, Sera sidled alongside Dorian. "Viney'll be fine, yeah? Solas did elfy magic on him before. Kept him from kicking buckets way back." She sounded so confident, yet her fingers shook on her bow.

"Odd day when it's you putting your faith in Solas and magic," Dorian sighed.

Sera shrugged and stared ahead at Aeric, not bothering to hide the tremble of her lip. "All odd days, with him. Nothing odder."

Dorian had to steady his own hands on his staff. "True enough."

They hurried through the ruins, and soon encountered more qunari. With Aeric's Mark now constantly alight, Dorian found it hard to concentrate, certain that any second he looked away from his _amatus_ would signal the last time he would see him alive. Aeric was a storm on the battlefield. He fought with the blistering Fade energy of the Anchor as often as he shot his arrows, his face a torrent of anger and stubborn determination. Years ago, when fighting Venatori and demons, Dorian and Aeric used to fight side by side, back to back, protecting each other as they laid waste to their enemies. Now, the more Dorian tried to close the distance between them, the farther the elf drew away. Still protecting, still defending Dorian, but now it was Aeric himself that he was shielding Dorian from. Dorian snarled as he flung balls of fire toward the hulking masses of qunari. _Come back here, you damned noble idiot!_ Dorian followed after Aeric. Two could be stubborn here. _I'll not let you die alone…_

Through one eluvian after another. More qunari, in seemingly neverending swarms. And then there he was, the _saarebas_ that towered over all other qunari, magic crackling from him almost as it did from Aeric's Mark. Cassandra surged ahead, her sword and shield held steady. Off to the left, Sera gathered grenades in both hands, grinning manically despite the cuts in her arms from previous battles. With a twirl of his staff, Dorian launched ribbons of lightning through the air, even as he kept one eye on Aeric. He watched as his beloved, fierce as ever, threw himself into the fray instead of guiding the battle from the edges as he usually did. Arrows were punctuated with blasts from the Anchor. Aeric's face contorted each time, pain and fury intermingling. And each time, a chill ran down Dorian's spine.

Until, just once, Aeric took too long to release the Anchor. Dorian held his breath. He watched in openmouthed horror as Aeric shouted, clutching his arm while tendrils of energy arced erratically out of the Anchor. The tendrils pulled him into the air while the elf struggled helplessly against it, then threw him down backwards with such force that he flipped over onto his face.

" _Amatus!_ " Dorian screamed and ran toward him. _No, no, please…_

He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached Aeric's side and saw him push himself up to his knees. Aeric looked up at Dorian with anguish written on his face. "Dorian, get back!" he grunted, and the hint of panic Dorian heard behind the gruffness made his stomach clench. "Please, _ma'nehn_ , I don't want to hurt you!"

Dorian shook his head. "If you think you're going to go through this alone," he growled, "you're abysmally mistaken." He offered Aeric his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Now, let's help the ladies with this monstrous qunari, shall we?"

Aeric's eyes softened for a moment, and he nodded.

Together, they cut through the waves of demons with magic and arrows, Aeric slamming his fist down with the force of the Anchor. Explosions of pitch sounded across the ruins as Sera darted through the battle, flinging her arrows with haphazard accuracy. Cassandra blocked a blast of magic with her shield, holding her ground against the force of it. With a wall of fire, Dorian defended himself from approaching demons while he covered Aeric's approach on the _saarebas_ with chains of lightning. And once the giant qunari began to wear down, Aeric slammed down one blast of Fade energy after another until the _saarebas_ lay smoldering on the ruined cobblestones.

"Go on ahead!" Dorian shouted to Aeric, shooting down one of the remaining demons with his flames. "Find Solas!"

Again, Aeric nodded wordlessly. He loped to the eluvian and disappeared through the rippling glass.

Cassandra blocked Dorian from the claws of a terror demon, giving him a moment to shower a barrage of energy on top of it. Sera was nearby, shooting three arrows at a time. Yet while the arrows found their marks easily enough, Dorian saw her gaze stray towards the mirror, a frown creasing her brow. He knew the feeling, wanting to be done with the battle quickly.

As soon as the last demon was destroyed, Dorian ran to the mirror. He held up a hand to push through.

His hand met cold glass.

"No…" he breathed. He pushed again, harder. Still nothing.

"Why're you standin' around gapin'?" Sera asked impatiently, a scowl on her face. "Go!"

"I… I can't." Dorian stared up at the mirror with openmouthed horror. He pushed again, and again. "It won't let me through!" His hand turned into a fist, and without quite realizing what he was doing, he pounded on the glass. "Not now, not now…!"

"Stop!" Cassandra shouted, holding his arm back. "You will break it!"

Dorian wrenched his hand from Cassandra's grip with no small amount of effort. "This can't be happening…" he murmured, sinking to his knees. "I have to be with him! He's dying! He… he can't die alone…" Hot tears rose to his eyes. It was a struggle not to let them fall.

A loud snuffle came from Sera, her own tears falling freely. "Friggin' elfy things! What good are they if they're not workin'?"

"Surely there must be some way through?" Cassandra muttered, her hand trembling as she studied the mirror. "At least to know what's happening?"

"The crystal!" Dorian exclaimed suddenly, his hands fumbling at the chain around his neck. He pulled the amulet out from under his robes and opened it. " _Vox._ " As he touched the crystal, his heart sank when it glowed blue. " _Amatus?_ " Dorian's voice cracked at the endearment, and for a moment, he was confident that he was sending his message to a corpse, Aeric already dead somewhere beyond the mirror. _I've lost him, I've lost him…_ "I know you can't hear me, but please… As soon as you receive this message, let me know you're all right. I… I need to know you're not dead. Please, don't be dead. If you are, I swear I'll…" He couldn't finish the usual joke, the words hurting too much and blocking his throat. He clutched at the amulet like a lifeline. _Please… Maker… don't take him from me…_

The mirror glowed blue.

Dorian launched himself headfirst through the glass. As he emerged from the mirror, he nearly beheaded himself on a stone qunari, but ducked around it quickly, paying it no more than a moment's notice. " _Amatus!_ " Dorian screamed. "Aeric!" His voice echoed across the overgrown courtyard. When he reached the stairs ahead, he took them two at a time, his eyes searching everywhere.

"There!" Cassandra shouted, pointing.

Dorian looked. Air left his lungs.

In front of a large eluvian, in the middle of a small pool of blood, lay a crumpled figure, quiet and unmoving.

A strangled cry rang out across the ruined temple in a voice Dorian barely recognized as his own. He ran to Aeric and collapsed before him. Unable to think, unable to breathe, Dorian reached out with shaking hands to hold him.

Aeric stirred.

The air returned, and Dorian gasped with lightheaded relief. "Oh, sweet Maker, you're still alive…" he breathed. Curled on his side as Aeric was, Dorian couldn't see the elf's face or arm. He turned Aeric gently onto his back, pulling on one shoulder. "Aeric?" Aeric looked back at him with strained eyes, hazy and unfocused, but sharp with pain. Dorian's gaze fell from Aeric's face down to the arm clutched to his chest.

Dorian's stomach lurched. Now that he knew Aeric was alive, he was suddenly aware of the putrid smell of burnt flesh. Nearby, he could hear Sera retching.

The glove on Aeric's hand was charred and crumbling in places, revealing raw, blackened flesh underneath. Blood trickled out from beneath the mouth of the glove, making crimson rivulets on the cobblestones. "Dorian…" was all Aeric could manage to say through clenched teeth. It sounded like a plea.

Dorian's hands came alight at once, blue-green healing magic pouring out of them. " _Fasta vass!_ " he cursed, willing his hands to stay still. "I can't heal this! There's no way I can heal something this severe!" Even still, he took a breath to steady himself and wove as much spirit magic as he could gather. The flesh did not want to stitch itself together, the magic slipping through Aeric's wound like a needle through wet tissue paper. _Just stop the bleeding… just enough to get help…_ " _Kaffas_ , Aeric, you can't do this to me!" He looked up at Cassandra. "If we've any potions left, now's the time to use them!"

Cassandra knelt on Aeric's other side, pressing vials of elfroot potions to his lips. Aeric drank eagerly, the tightness in his face easing only a little. "Solas…" Aeric murmured. Though his eyes were still unfocused, there was a string of anger in his voice. "He… took the Anchor…"

"Little good that'll do you if you bleed out in the middle of these fucking ruins!" In the back of Dorian's mind, he couldn't help but recall being in this exact position in the middle of the Emerald Graves, desperately trying to heal Aeric's wound as the damned elf professed his love for the first time. The memory made his hands tremble again. "Don't you dare bleed to death, you hear me?" Dorian grunted in a fragile voice. His magic wavered. "Don't you fucking dare!" Taking another breath, he tried to steady his emotions. _Just stop the bleeding…_

Wordlessly, knowing without needing to be told, Cassandra took a knife and cut away Aeric's glove, peeling it from the burnt flesh. Careful though she was, Aeric cried out, the glove sticking in places where the magical fire of the Anchor had burned too hot. Dorian ignored as best he could the vice-grip that threatened to strangle his heart at the sound of Aeric's agonized voice. As Dorian healed the wound, he tried to imagine the arm belonging to someone else, to pretend that the mangled and bloody skin was not his beloved's.

Only minutes had to have passed, but they felt interminable. Finally, finally, Dorian made himself stop. If he kept obsessing on making it better, the job would never be finished. "I think… I think that's done it."

"You daft?" Sera squeaked from somewhere over his shoulder. "That's not healed! It's no different!"

Dorian rounded on her. "Weren't you listening? I _can't_. The only hope is to get him back to the Palace so some actual healers can tend to him." He swallowed. "And pray what little I've managed to repair will hold together on the way back."

Cassandra helped Aeric to a sitting position. "Inquisitor, can you stand?"

Aeric tried to push himself up with his good arm, but collapsed again at once.

"You've lost too much blood," Dorian said. He turned, offering his back to Aeric. "Come, I'll carry you."

"I can do it if you need me to, Dorian," Cassandra said in a soft voice.

"I have him, Cassandra!" Dorian snapped, unable to keep his temper in check. He crouched in front of Aeric, and Cassandra helped the elf onto his back. Sera picked up Dorian's staff from the temple floor, looking helpless, tears falling as she watched and continued to pace.

Dorian staggered to his feet, shifting Aeric's weight into a comfortable position with his legs hooked over Dorian's arms. Aeric slung his good arm over Dorian's shoulder, his other arm dangling limply at his side. "Let's get going, then," Dorian said gruffly. "He hasn't much time before the healing comes undone."

Together, they backtracked through the ruins, pushing through each eluvian. The going was faster without a hundred qunari standing in their way, yet it felt like an interminable distance even still. Sera, the fastest of the three of them, ran ahead to have help waiting for them when they arrived.

Aeric's head sagged until it was resting on Dorian's shoulder. It felt so much like a soft embrace, like so many times before that Aeric held him from behind with near-reverence. Like how Dorian had so often longed to be held these past two years without Aeric. Dorian could feel his pulse in his throat, and he had to stop himself from thinking, to keep his hands from shaking again.

"He killed my sister…" Aeric murmured, sounding half delirious. The top of his head felt fevered on Dorian's cheek.

"Who?" Dorian asked as they passed from the temple to the empty Darvaarad.

"Solas."

Dorian frowned and shifted Aeric on his back.

"It's his fault she died." Aeric's voice sounded hollow and weak. "Murderer. Traitor. He's going to… destroy the world…"

"Tell me about it later, _amatus_ ," Dorian told him in a whisper, not certain what he was talking about. "When you're well, and not dying."

Aeric nodded slowly, sagging against Dorian.

" _Amatus_?" When Aeric responded only with a faint grunt, Dorian felt a pang of fear claw at his back. Despite the aching in his arms, Dorian quickened his pace. "Stay with me, do you hear me? I'll never forgive you if you die after I've already carried you half of the way."

The soft chuckle from Aeric was only a small comfort.

They were passing the gatehouse when Dorian realized Aeric was bleeding again, a thin red trail in their wake. Dorian gritted his teeth, adjusting Aeric once more on his back to ease his fatigue. "Almost there, _amatus_ ," Dorian muttered, though he doubted Aeric could hear him now. "Almost there…"

When they reached the Crossroads, Sera and Vivienne were already running towards them. They brought with them a few Inquisition servants carrying a stretcher, as well as Orlesian healers, recognizable by their white uniforms. Dorian stumbled to a halt when he reached them. His arms felt leaden even as the healers took Aeric from him and placed the elf on the waiting stretcher. As Dorian watched helplessly, his stomach tying itself in knots, the healers' hands immediately came alight with magic. Even under the blue-green glow of their spells, Aeric's face had a yellowish pallor.

Vivienne frowned as she observed, following behind the stretcher as they made their way back to the final eluvian. "You can help him, can't you, Vivienne?" Dorian asked as he walked beside her. "Healing the arm was beyond my abilities, but surely you and the healers can do something for him."

The look Vivienne cast at him was soft, sad. "My dear," she said gently. "The Inquisitor will have to lose the arm, I'm afraid."

"What?!" Dorian stopped in his tracks, gaping at her.

Vivienne paused, beckoning for him to follow once more. They passed through the rippling blue glass of the mirror. "I am sorry, Dorian, but I can tell just by looking at it that it's unsalvageable. Healing magic is a magnificent thing, but it cannot recreate muscle. It will have to be amputated."

Dorian glared at her, and as they walked, he placed himself between her and Aeric without thinking. "You can't… I won't let you."

"Dorian…"

"No!" he snarled. "You're not taking his fucking _arm_!" His mind raced, heart pounded. A rising panic filled him until his thoughts were nothing but a senseless tangle. "How will Aeric hold his bow, hm? How will he fight or play his lute?" His voice began to break. "How will he bake bread or… -or knit or whittle his bloody carvings or…"

" _Ma'nehn…_ "

The voice was small and weak, but Dorian stopped and turned as soon as he heard it.

Aeric looked up at him, his eyes struggling to remain focused. "It… it'll be all right, _ma'nehn_ … I'll be fine."

Dorian shook his head. "Damned fool," he accused, his throat catching on the words. His eyes turned hot again. "You're the one who's going to lose an arm! Why are _you_ comforting _me_? How can you be so calm?"

"Because you're not," Aeric said, the barest curl of a smile touching his lips. "I'll be all right… Vivienne will take care of me."

Dorian wanted to kiss him. But they stopped then, having reached the infirmary, a small building off the side of the courtyard. This was happening now, he realized. "I love you, damn it," he told Aeric, afraid it might be his last chance to say it. Dorian reached out to brush a tendril of hair out of Aeric's eyes. "I don't tell you enough."

"Love you." Dorian saw Aeric's lips move, but could not hear the tiny words, too weak to carry over the bustle of activity over him. The healers barked orders to the servants, directing them toward a large table at the back of the room inside.

Vivienne held him back at the door, keeping him from following. "Darling, please wait out here."

Dorian could see them over her shoulder, lifting Aeric to the table. "I want to be with him."

She shook her head. "This isn't something you should see," she said softly. "Let us take care of him. I will make certain he will be all right."

He took one final look at Aeric, lingering as long as he dared and nodded. "I'll hold you to that."

Stepping back, Dorian felt his stomach clench as he watched the door close behind Vivienne. There was a touch at his shoulder. Dorian turned to find Cassandra looking at him with sympathetic eyes. Off to his left, Sera was sniffling loudly, leaning against a wall and hugging herself. He had forgotten they were there.

"The Inquisitor is strong," Cassandra told him warmly. "He will make it through."

Dorian only gave a nod in reply, sinking onto a bench at the side of the door. Bending over his knees, he buried his face in his hands, wishing he were as optimistic as Aeric often was. Instead, his mind filled with a thousand ways the amputation might go wrong, until he wished desperately for something to quiet his thoughts.

Sera sat down heavily beside him, not saying a word. After a moment, Dorian raised his head to look at her. Her hands shook, her face white as a sheet. For the first time that morning, Dorian remembered that Aeric was important to other people too. The two elves had grown close over the year and a half that Dorian had been in Tevinter. Aeric even called Sera his sister. That was as high an honor as there could be in Aeric's eyes.

Dorian wanted to give her an encouraging word or smile, but found he didn't have the strength for it, fear still clawing up his insides. Instead, he reached out a hand and squeezed one of hers. Sera blinked and stared down at their hands for a moment before letting out a loud snuffle, tears welling in her eyes. It wasn't much. And yet, somehow, it helped to know he wasn't the only one who was terrified.

Here in Halamshiral, the morning sun was not so high in the sky, gray shadows cast at odd angles across the palace. Gradually, the others came to join them outside the infirmary. Blackwall - Thom now, it seemed - nodded to Dorian and gave him a gruff pat on the shoulder before going to join Dagna, who had run to Sera at once when they arrived. The blond elf hugged them both fiercely as she bawled. Varric, Cole, and Iron Bull came soon afterward, asking after Aeric. Cole approached Dorian quietly and bent to give him a gentle embrace. "You don't want it," Cole murmured, "but it looked like you needed it."

"Thank you," Dorian told him.

A moment later, after Cole had wandered away to talk to Varric, Iron Bull stood over Dorian until he looked up. The qunari grunted and held out a flask. After taking a grateful swig to calm his nerves, Dorian gave it back. It was tempting to drink more, to wash away the clawing certainty that it would all go terribly somehow. But Aeric might want him near if he woke, or Vivienne might need help. If that happened, Dorian needed to be alert.

Josephine arrived with Cullen several minutes later. As soon as she reached Dorian, Josephine put her arms around him, tears falling from her face. "Aeric will be all right," she told him in a watery voice, not using Aeric's title for once. "I am certain of it."

"Then why are you crying?" Dorian asked. He meant to say it teasingly, but it sounded worried instead.

Josephine gave him a soft smile and hugged him again. "It is in my nature." She drew back and looked at him seriously. "Do you need anything? I have asked for some food to be sent here. The three of you haven't eaten since last night. You must be famished."

"I'm not hungry," he replied. The constant thread of anxiety had taken away any appetite he might have had. She nodded, understanding, not pressing further. He glanced toward the door to the infirmary. It had to have been nearly an hour since they arrived. How long did amputations take? "What if he doesn't make it, Josephine?" he asked after a long pause. He took a shuddering breath. "I don't… I don't think I could handle it."

"Try not to think like that," Josephine said. "He will be fine. You will see."

Dorian wanted to believe her.

As the early morning wore on, Dorian began to droop on the bench. The long day and night of fighting, and the turmoil of emotions he had felt all week finally crashed over him. He was exhausted. Josephine tugged at him until his head rested on her shoulder. As embarrassed as he was to be using Josephine as a pillow, Dorian couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. With worried imaginings still running through his head, Dorian fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

When Dorian woke, he was surprised to find himself resting on Relyne instead of Josephine. He looked around, finding most of the others sitting and playing cards. Sera and Cassandra had also fallen asleep, the Seeker leaning back in a chair with her arms crossed and Sera snoring loudly while clutching a sheepish-looking Dagna.

"Good morning, Monsieur," Relyne greeted as Dorian lifted his head. "Lady Josephine had to attend the Council a short time ago, and asked me to take her place when I arrived. You have a heavy head."

"Thank you, my friend." Normally Dorian would have made some quip in reply, but his mind was elsewhere. He glanced at the sky, the sun now warm and high above the horizon, then turned to the door to the infirmary. "Aren't they done yet? How long have I been asleep?"

Relyne cocked her head to one side as she considered. "Almost two hours, I believe. I came an hour ago when I heard, but Lady Josephine said that you had been here for some time already."

Closing his eyes to concentrate, Dorian could feel the magical energies swirling within the infirmary, even through the walls. "They're still healing him," he murmured, opening his eyes once more. "I suppose that's a good sign, then?"

"Monsieur," Relyne said, smirking a little. "You must be careful. That almost sounds like optimism. You have a reputation to maintain, after all."

Dorian barked a laugh. "Perish the thought, my friend. I assure you that for every positive thought, I have imagined a hundred other ways things may go absolutely pear-shaped."

Relyne patted his shoulder fondly. "I do not doubt it." After a beat, she gestured to a cart that now stood at the end of the gathering area, full of breads and fruit. "You must eat. I know you are anxious, but it would not do Monsieur Lavellan much good if you faint from hunger."

Giving a smile he didn't feel, Dorian nodded and got to his feet. As he went to the cart, the others who were awake greeted him, inviting him to join their game of cards. "It'll take your mind off of things for a while," Varric insisted.

"Perhaps later," Dorian told him, wanting a distraction while, at the same time, wanting to do nothing else but wait by the infirmary door. For now, he concentrated on filling a plate with food he thought he might be able to stomach: bread and grapes and a smear of soft cheese. When he spotted the jar of honey, his heart ached a little, thinking of Aeric and how much he loved the stuff. With a sad smile, Dorian put some of the honey on his bread and ate it. It tasted like evenings spent in each other's arms on their balcony at Skyhold, of Aeric leaping into his arms on a crisp morning after ten months apart.

As Dorian finished his small plate of food, he realized with a hard swallow that he could no longer feel the magical energies on the other side of the infirmary wall. He handed his plate to Relyne and stood, watching the door expectantly with his arms crossed over his chest.

After a few moments, Vivienne emerged from the doorway. Her face was tight with weariness, but otherwise expressionless.

"Well?" Dorian asked at once, unable to stand the waiting any longer.

"The operation went more or less as we had hoped," Vivienne said, and Dorian let out a breath of relief. The Grand Enchanter dabbed at her brow in dainty motions with a handkerchief. "The Inquisitor had lost a good deal of blood, making the amputation difficult and the healing tricky. Nevertheless," she said, raising a hand, apparently to stop Dorian from an alarmed outburst, "he is alive and resting. We have transferred him to the quarters the two of you share, so he might be more comfortable."

Dorian nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Thank you, Vivienne. Might I see him?"

"Of course, my dear." Vivienne stepped aside to allow him through to the infirmary. "He shouldn't have any other visitors while he's resting, however."

"Hey, wait!" Dorian heard Sera's voice behind him. "I wanna see him, too!"

Vivienne sighed. "Sera, darling, did you not hear what I just said?"

"I did, but I don't care, do I?" Sera challenged, standing as straight as she could to stare up at Vivienne. "Viney's family. Not blood or nothin', but that doesn't mean shite. I won't make noise. I'm quieter than you or Dorian when we're fightin', y'know. I just wanna see him."

"Let her come," Dorian said impatiently, anxious to see Aeric. "Let's not argue on it all day."

With a sniff, Vivienne beckoned Sera through the door. Sera smiled, waving to Dagna before following after Dorian.

Vivienne took them through the infirmary, then down an adjoining corridor that lead into the Grand Apartments. The two healers from before stood outside a door not far down the hall. "I will arrange for a couple of our soldiers to stand guard outside," Vivienne told them softly. "If you or the Inquisitor needs anything, you need only tell one of them." Her eyes narrowed at Sera. "You are not to linger. I'll leave it to Dorian's discretion for when you must leave, but no argument, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, Dorian's boss," Sera said, making a face. That she didn't blow a raspberry at Vivienne showed remarkable restraint on her part, Dorian thought.

"Go on then," Vivienne urged.

Dorian and Sera stepped into the room slowly, careful not to let their boots make too much noise on the marble tiled floor. Heart hammering in his chest, Dorian swallowed as he approached the large four-poster bed at the other end of the quarters. A brief rush of relief flooded over him when he spotted Aeric's head poking out from the blankets, his usual bronze color having returned to his face. Sera crept behind him, her eyes shifting about as if regretting her decision to come along.

Dorian had thought - perhaps foolishly - that he'd be prepared to see Aeric, knowing that his arm would be missing. Yet when Dorian and Sera got close enough to the bed to see him, Dorian gave a soft, halting gasp. Aeric's left shoulder and upper arm looked almost the same, even bandaged as it was. But around where his elbow should have been, Aeric's arm just… ended. The space below the upper arm was so strangely empty, odd and discordant with how Aeric looked in Dorian's mind. Sera clutched Dorian's arm, her face screwing up in an effort not to let out a sob.

As soon as Dorian reached the bed, he pulled two armchairs close and sat down in one of them. Gently, he placed one of his hands over Aeric's remaining one. He let out a long breath. Aeric's hand was warm, his pulse beating just beneath the skin of his wrist. _He's alive… At least he's alive…_

Sera sat down in the other chair, saying nothing as she rubbed at her eyes with balled up fists. They sat together for a long while, the silence between them somehow awkward and necessary all at once.

After Sera's tears had long since abated, she tugged on one of the buckles of Dorian's robes. "Hey," she whispered, "you look like arse."

Dorian blinked and nearly laughed despite himself at the sheer randomness of the statement. "I might say you're looking rather arse-shaped yourself, Sera," he whispered back with a smile.

Sera gave a lopsided grin. "What I mean is, you just spent a whole night fightin' qunari and such. Probably still got some guts stuck in your ears or wherever."

Looking down at himself, Dorian realized that he was still in his armor, blood having long since dried upon his robes. How strange that he only noticed now, and it took Sera to point it out to him. He hadn't even thought about it.

She pointed with her thumb towards the door to the bathroom. "You go, clean yourself up. Be nice and pretty for Viney when he wakes up, yeah? I'll sit with him 'til you're done." She gave a soft chuckle. "Knowin' Viv, I'm bettin' there's already extra clothes laid out for you."

"I'd be terribly disappointed in her if there weren't," Dorian said, getting to his feet. "I won't be long. Come fetch me if he wakes, yes?"

As the two of them had suspected, someone had already laid out a set of Dorian's clothing on a chair in the bathroom, alongside a towel and some toiletries. The bathtub was already filled with water, which Dorian heated with a wave of his hand. He washed quickly despite how welcome the hot water felt upon his tense muscles. If Aeric woke, Dorian wanted to be there.

After changing into the fresh set of clothes, Dorian returned to the bedroom to find Sera standing on the opposite side of the bed, fussing with the blankets. "What are you doing?" Dorian asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Sera bit her lip for a moment before responding. "I covered his arm," she whispered as she returned to stand beside him. "You know, the one that's not anymore."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I figured it shouldn't be the first thing Viney sees when waking. Seemed nicer, giving him time to be ready for it."

Dorian sat down again, taking Aeric's hand once more. "You're becoming strangely wise, Sera. I've no idea what to make of you now."

"Oh stop," Sera said, giving him a playful push on the shoulder. "Anyway, I'd best be going. Told Viv I just wanted to see him, and I have."

"Thank you," Dorian whispered after her as she stepped towards the door. "I'll tell him you were here."

Sera nodded and smiled, her footsteps light on the marble floor as she left.

As the door clicked shut behind Sera, Dorian found himself at a loss of what to do. Bright morning sun dappled through gauzy curtains throughout the quarters, casting Aeric in a soft glow. Maker, but Dorian wanted to hold him so badly, if only to reassure himself that Aeric was safe now, all danger of him dying now past. Yet Dorian was afraid to wake him. Did the remainder of Aeric's left arm still hurt? Dorian didn't want to find out. As far as he was concerned, Aeric had been hurt enough for a lifetime.

Finally, as the minutes passed into hours, the draw of sleep pulled at Dorian once more. He bent forward to lay his head and arms beside Aeric, the elf's hand held tightly within his.

***

A squeeze. " _Ma'nehn_."

Dorian's eyes fluttered open, confused. The room was darkening, sunlight fading from the room. How many hours had passed?

He felt Aeric's hand tighten around his again. Finally comprehending, Dorian looked up sharply to see Aeric watching him with his lapis blue eyes. " _Amatus,_ " Dorian breathed.

"Hello, _ma'nehn_ ," Aeric replied warmly, though his voice sounded weak and straining.

"You're awake," Dorian murmured, a cautious relief coming over him. "How do you feel?"

Aeric smiled in his usual way, with his eyes only. "Weak. Drowsy. Glad to see you."

Dorian returned his smile with a trembling one of his own. "Me? I wasn't the one who nearly died no less than three times since last night." He took a long breath that stuttered in his throat. "I forbid you from scaring me like that again, Aeric. I don't think I could bear it."

"I'll try not to," Aeric replied. His brow furrowed. "Why were you sleeping in the chair? There's plenty of room for you up here."

"I didn't want to disturb you." Dorian looked down at their hands. "I was afraid I might inadvertently hurt you." He returned his gaze to Aeric's face. "Does it? Hurt, I mean?"

"It aches." Aeric's voice was soft. He paused, as if hesitating. "How does it look?"

Dorian wasn't sure how to answer. He hated how it looked, if only because he knew how much pain Aeric had gone through because of that arm. "It… It will take some getting used to," he replied finally.

Aeric gave a nod and turned his eyes away. He stared up at the ceiling. "It burns a little, too, even with the healing," he murmured. "It feels like it's still there… But it's not, is it."

Dorian swallowed. "No."

Nodding again, Aeric closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then another. And still one more. When he opened his eyes again, Aeric's jaw was set. He turned to his left and raised his arm out from under the blanket Sera had placed there. Aeric stared at the bandaged stump for a prolonged moment, frowning as if studying it, before lowering it to the bed. He dropped his head to the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, they were full of tears.

Dorian was off of the chair at once, climbing onto the bed and gathering Aeric into his arms. The elf shook as he cried silently, still staring up at the ceiling, his face pinched tight. Once again, Dorian didn't know what to say. No words could possibly make this better.

They stayed that way for a long time, with Dorian holding Aeric, the elf's tears falling without a sound. Until Aeric shifted, turning towards Dorian. Until they both realized at the same time, as Aeric raised his left arm, that he couldn't reciprocate the embrace in that position. Aeric pushed himself back, settling heavily onto the pillows. "This is bullshit!" he cried, his voice ringing across the room despite his weakness. He choked out a sob. "What am I going to do, Dorian? I can't even hold you!"

Dorian shook his head, pulling Aeric back into his arms. "It will be all right, _amatus_ …" he crooned, though his voice was getting hoarse and his eyes felt hot with fresh tears. He pressed firm kisses onto Aeric's temple. "We'll figure it out. It'll be all right. _Fasta vass_ , I'm just so glad you're even alive. I nearly lost you… I nearly lost you… Thank the Maker you're alive…"

They clutched at each other desperately until Aeric's tears subsided into an uneasy slumber. It wasn't until Aeric's breath was heavy with sleep that Dorian let his own tears fall.

***

Exhausted as they were, the two of them slept soundly through the night, Dorian's arms securely around Aeric. When Dorian finally woke, pale sunlight drifting in through the curtained windows, he heard a loud rap at the door once, then twice. Carefully, Dorian slid away from Aeric then straightened his hair and mustache as best he could in the time it took for him to reach the door.

Dorian threw open the door and found himself face to face with a masked Orlesian woman. The bright blue livery she wore marked her not as a noble, but as someone in a nobleperson's employ. A steward perhaps? Dorian glared down at her nonetheless. "What?" he snapped. "You do realize there are injured people resting in here?" He turned his glare to the guards on either side of the door. "What's the use of you two if you let anyone raise all manner of racket? Why didn't you stop her?"

"My apologies, Ambassador Pavus," the Orlesian woman said smoothly. "Do not blame them too harshly, for I told them it was urgent Council business."

Dorian crossed his arms and sniffed. "Which is?"

The woman bowed. "I come on behalf of Duke Montfort. Once again, Lady Montilyet is the only one from the Inquisition handling negotiations. Talks have been underway for nearly a week, and the Inquisitor has only attended for one day, and not much of it at that."

"The Inquisitor will beg the Duke's pardon that he was stopping a fucking qunari invasion and couldn't attend your _talks_ ," Dorian growled, his upper lip curling. "Perhaps he could be a little flexible, given that his head isn't currently perched upon a Ben-Hassrath spear."

The woman paled, but pressed on. "Nonetheless, Ambassador, Duke Montfort is concerned that the outcome of the Council will be jeopardized, as he believes Arl Teagan's patience is at an end. To be frank, my lord, they do not wish to speak to Lady Montilyet anymore. If something is to be discussed about the Inquisition, they wish to speak to the Inquisitor himself directly."

"Absolutely not!" Dorian pointed down the hallway. "Leave, and tell the Duke and anyone else that the Inquisitor is indisposed on account of saving your sorry, ungrateful arses from exploding halfway to Val Royeaux!" And before the woman could open her mouth to protest, he slammed the door shut, locking it with a snap.

Dorian heard a shift on the bed and sighed, realizing how much noise he had made. When he turned, it was much as he feared. Aeric was sitting up in bed, his legs hanging off the side.

"Apologies, _amatus_ ," Dorian sighed as he approached the bed. "I lost my temper."

"I heard."

Dorian reached Aeric and gave his forehead a light kiss. "Did you need anything? Something to eat or drink before going back to sleep, perhaps?"

Aeric shook his head. "Help me get dressed."

"Oh no, you don't," Dorian said, staring at Aeric in disbelief. "You cannot be thinking of going."

"I'll need to send word to Josephine and the others," Aeric went on as if he didn't hear Dorian. "With all that's happened, we never got the chance to have a proper debriefing." He looked up at Dorian with a grim expression on his face. "There is… much to explain. For now, I need to tell everyone that Solas intends on tearing down the Veil."

"Wait, what?" Dorian exclaimed, thinking he must have heard Aeric wrong. "That… that's not possible! And besides, didn't he help us fix the bloody thing only two years ago?"

"Only because he wasn't ready yet for all the death and destruction, it seems." Aeric sighed. "Damned asshole. He'd rather destroy the world than learn to live in it." He started to get to his feet but staggered halfway to standing. He had reached out with his left arm as if to catch himself on the bed but, finding no hand there, started to fall over. Dorian caught him with a soft grunt.

" _Fasta vass_ , Aeric," Dorian muttered. "You need rest! Healing or no, you lost a limb yesterday! That isn't something you can merely walk off!" He took a calming breath and let it out in a huff. "Let Josephine handle things," he said more gently. "The world can wait for another day."

"This nonsense ends now," the elf said, strength returning to his voice as he gritted his teeth and rose again. This time, he stayed upright. "There's no reason for Josephine to deal with those vultures any longer." His eyes met Dorian's again, his gaze steely. There would be no arguing with him like this. "Send word to my advisors. And ask for Cassandra as well. I need to borrow something of hers."

Dorian stared at Aeric for a moment, his heart close to bursting. "Magnificent bastard," he muttered as he went to retrieve Aeric's dress uniform from the wardrobe. "You're horribly stubborn."

Aeric gave the slightest of smiles. "I know."

Dorian followed Aeric's instructions, writing notes and sending them off with one of the guards to give to Cassandra and Josephine. When he returned, he found Aeric struggling with his trousers, the laces beyond his ability one-handed. There was a pang in Dorian's chest as he helped. It took longer than usual, but soon the both of them were dressed, Dorian making a few last adjustments to the sash around Aeric's waist. The elf watched him, a grim expression on his face. Dorian couldn't imagine what Aeric must have been feeling, mere buttons and knots all beyond his ability. _He'll learn_ , Dorian told himself, assured because this was Aeric. His impossible _amatus_.

Aeric frowned down at the dangling sleeve on his left side. "Is there something we can do about this?" he asked, raising the stump, making the sleeve flounder listlessly.

"The flopping does make you rather less imposing, doesn't it?" Dorian agreed. He bit his lower lip as he considered the sleeve. After a moment, he began to fold it over itself this way and that, until the bundled cuff was rolled up and tucked just beneath the end of Aeric's residual limb. "There, much better. Now you look ready to take down some snotty politicians."

Aeric's eyes twinkled brightly, though his jaw was set. "Always."

Together, they left their quarters, Aeric's hand gripping Dorian's arm for support. Though they walked arm-in-arm for completely practical purposes, Dorian felt his face heat at the feel of him there, reminding him of how long they had been apart, of how little time they have had to truly be together. Yes, let the Council end today, so Aeric might finally get the rest and affection he so rightfully deserved.

Cassandra met them at the end of the corridor on the way to the meeting hall, carrying a large tome. Dorian recognized it, the Inquisition's symbol emblazoned on its cover. "Inquisitor," Cassandra said, her eyes going at once to the empty space where Aeric's hand should have been. With a blink, she turned her gaze back up to Aeric's face, her expression somehow sad and stern all at once. "I brought what you asked, but you should be resting."

Dorian made a guttural noise of frustration. "Don't bother. There's no reasoning with him."

Aeric took the book from her, teetering a little as he let go of Dorian's arm. Straightening and squaring his shoulders, he glared at the nearby door to the meeting hall. "Go on in ahead of me, both of you. This will only take a few minutes."

With a nod, Cassandra turned down another hallway towards a side entrance. Dorian hesitated. " _Amatus…_ "

"I'll be fine, _ma'nehn_ ," Aeric insisted. "Go on." And without waiting to see if Dorian complied, Aeric stepped toward the main entrance, his stride purposeful.

Dorian watched him for a moment before turning to catch up with Cassandra. Once inside, he stood beside the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. At the center of the room, Josephine stood alone against the Council, Leliana making considered attempts at diffusing the tension between the Orlesian and Fereldan ambassadors. _Kaffas_ , how petty they all sounded, bickering when the world always seemed moments away from tearing itself apart.

The doors opened at the rear of the hall, and Aeric strode into the middle of everything with determination in every step. From merely looking at him, one would never be able to tell that Aeric had trouble even standing that morning. A chill ran up Dorian's spine at the sight of his love, standing amongst a hundred people ready to tear him down, yet glaring up at them as if he owned the very walls that contained them.

"If the Inquisition is to continue," Duke Montfort was saying, "it must do so as a legitimate organization, not a glorified mercenary band." Yet the hall fell silent as Aeric stepped up beside Josephine, book in hand. Dorian watched as their eyes all collectively turned toward Aeric, then towards the empty space where his hand should have been. An uncomfortable tension filled the air, tiny whispers of shock flitting through the congregation.

Josephine turned to look at Aeric. "Inquisitor?"

Aeric didn't answer her. Instead, he glared up at the Council's ambassadors and held up the book of the Inquisition. "You all know what this is," he said, his voice barely concealing his contempt. He turned toward the crowd, still holding the book aloft. "A writ, from Divine Justinia, authorizing the formation of the Inquisition. We pledged to close the Breach, find those responsible, and restore order - with or without anyone's approval." He turned back towards the ambassadors. "It wasn't a formally authorized treaty that saved Ferelden's people," he said, blue eyes piercing as he stared up at Arl Teagan. Aeric turned his gaze toward the duke. "It wasn't careful diplomacy that ended your inane civil war. It was _never_ about the organization! It was about people doing what was _necessary_!"

Pride swelled in Dorian's chest as he watched. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to pray. That history might get something right for once, that someone would record this moment exactly as it was: a Dalish elf - broken, perhaps, but not bent, not bowed - standing before a Council of humans as their better. Better not because of his race or theirs, but by virtue of his profound actions.

Aeric stood taller than perhaps he had ever stood. He held out the book in front of him and dropped it with an echoing thump at his feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a world to save. Again." The last word was brimming with contempt, a snarl for them to choke upon. Aeric turned his back to them, already walking to the door as he spoke. "Effective immediately, the Inquisition is disbanded."

The crowd burst with incredulous shouts and cries, but Aeric strode past them without a care. They were no longer worthy of his time. Smiling, Dorian left the hall and hurried to meet Aeric at the entryway.

Aeric arrived in the hallway just as Dorian rounded the corner. As soon as the guards closed the doors, the elf collapsed to his knees upon the carpet. Dorian ran to his side at once.

"I'm all right," Aeric muttered, his breathing turning labored and heavy. "Just… just tired."

Dorian nodded and helped him to his feet, supporting him with an arm around his waist. " _Fasta vass_ ," Dorian said, his smile returning. "What you did in there… That was glorious!"

Aeric gave a weak chuckle. "I was almost certain I was going to keel over right there in front of everyone."

"You were perfect," Dorian assured him, arm tightening to pull him closer. "Arl Teagan looked positively constipated as you were leaving. He looked about ready to eat his hideous hat. It was marvelous."

As Aeric laughed again, Dorian felt for that one moment that all might be right in the world. He leaned in to press a kiss onto Aeric's scarred and tattooed cheek. "Let's get you to bed, _amatus_. You deserve a rest."

"That sounds nice," Aeric said, sounding sluggish, as if he was half asleep already. "I'm told I lost a limb yesterday, you know."

Dorian gave a crooked smile, despite the ache he felt at the words. "Inappropriate jokes are my forte, not yours."

"You're rubbing off on me, _ma'nehn_."

"Poorly, it seems." Dorian kissed him again, relishing the opportunity to do so. There had been too few kisses between them these past two years. "We'll work on it, _amatus_. We'll work on everything."

***

As Aeric slept, Dorian read beside him on the bed, one hand linked with Aeric's, warm and reassuring. In the moments in between Aeric's naps, visitors came and went, Sera and Cole the most frequent of them. He told them all about Solas, about his identity - an ancient elf so powerful that he was revered and feared as a god. It was a difficult idea for Dorian to get his mind around. To him, Solas was that stuffy elf downstairs who wore hideous pajamas and yelled when Dorian was throwing books around, inevitably hitting him on the head. Weren't gods supposed to be creatures so resplendent that the huddling masses threw themselves at their feet? Dorian couldn't imagine anyone throwing themselves at Solas' feet.

And yet, as Dorian listened to Aeric tell them all of Solas' plans, he couldn't help the worry that had taken root in his spine once more. Solas might take years yet to implement his plan, but it seemed Aeric would once again be the one called to stop him. Aeric had won against a mortal who thought himself to be a god. Could he do the same against a real one?

Aeric had to. Maker help him, but he had to, for all their sakes.

Night passed into morning once more. When Dorian woke, he had the strange experience of hearing his own voice, though he wasn't speaking. "-can't hear me, but please… As soon as you receive this message, let me know you're all right."

Dorian opened his eyes, realizing what it was. He had forgotten all about the message. As his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of early morning, he found Aeric sitting up in a chair across the room with his back to Dorian, hunched over the locket glowing blue in his hand. "I… I need to know you're not dead," Dorian's message went on. "Please, don't be dead. If you are, I swear I'll…"

There was a long pause as the message cut off. " _Sonus_ ," Aeric murmured to the locket.

The message began again. " _Amatus_? I know you can't hear me, but please… As soon as you receive this message…"

"Aeric," Dorian called out to him, sitting up in bed.

Aeric gave a start, closing the locket with a snap. " _Ma'nehn_ ," he said, his voice sounding hoarse as he turned to look at Dorian. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

Dorian got out of bed and crossed the room to him. He kneeled on the carpet before him. "The crystals work rather well, I see," Dorian said in a soft voice.

Dropping the locket onto his lap, Aeric reached out to touch Dorian's face. "I don't think I've ever heard you sound so scared."

Even now, with Aeric safe before him, a clawing helplessness tore at Dorian's insides. "I couldn't get through the mirror," he replied, his voice sounding wooden. "I was certain you had died."

"I'm sorry." Aeric leaned down to kiss him, gentle and tentative. "You've had a bad week, haven't you?"

Dorian blinked, unsure at first what he was talking about when he suddenly remembered. "You mean with my father?" With all the commotion, he'd nearly forgotten. "Yes, but I think it hardly compares to your week. I'm not sure losing my estranged father quite compares to losing your left arm. Or having politicians ridicule you for saving the world from certain doom. Or discovering you have to save it again." Dorian sighed and squeezed Aeric's hand. "Or finding out that I'm leaving again."

In the dim sunlight, Aeric's eyes were shadowed and dark. "I still can't come with you, then?"

"Please, no," Dorian said, shaking his head. "We've been through this, _amatus_. I nearly lost you the other day. I won't willingly put you in harm's way, not while it's in my power to prevent it."

Aeric stared down at their hands and nodded. "You're leaving soon, then?"

"Another week, perhaps more," Dorian replied, having decided sometime since going through the mirrors for the last time. "I'll not leave you while you're freshly dis-armed, so to speak. I'll stay as long as I can. If I'm late to claim my inheritance, I'm certain my mother will delay any attempts at stealing my magisterial seat out from under me."

Aeric nodded again. "I'll keep asking, you know." He looked up until his eyes, glinting in the weak sunlight, met Dorian's. "I want us to be together. So I'll keep asking."

Almost more than anything, Dorian wanted the same. He kissed Aeric, hard and lingering. "Please do," Dorian murmured when their lips parted. He gave a mirthless chuckle. "Damn me for loving you so dearly. Perhaps I wouldn't be so concerned for your life otherwise."

"A curse we'll have to live with, I'm afraid," Aeric replied, and kissed him again.

The kiss dwelled upon them, keeping them locked together as their lips grew more needy and wanting. And as whispered I-love-yous fell from their mouths, Dorian drew Aeric to the bed, gentle and careful so as not to tire Aeric too quickly, weak as he still was. Their love-making was reassurance. A reminder that they were alive and together and _together_ , spoken through caresses and tongues and warmed, quickened breaths. Flashes of sadness and frustration passed over Aeric's face every now and again, and Dorian understood. He wanted to feel with both hands, to touch more, to sense more. Dorian wanted it for him. For both of them.

_We'll figure it out._

None of this was ideal. But it was enough for now, curled together in a tired, blissful haze after groaning, straining cries that released a week's worth of fear and tension. As Aeric fell asleep, Dorian held him as tightly as he could without crushing him. The road ahead of them was uncertain, and Dorian could not shed the worry that seemed an ever-present constant now. Yet if that was the price he paid, the toll for loving Aeric so completely, of being loved in return, then that was a price Dorian was willing to pay. Terrifying as it all was at times, this man in his arms, this life so inextricably linked with his… if fear was the price of loving, so be it.


End file.
